


Soul Snatchers' Extras: Stories from within and without in the land of the lost

by Nikkie2571



Series: The Soul Snatchers' Saga: All stories, AUs, and non-canon funtimes [4]
Category: Original Work, The Soul Snatchers' Saga
Genre: Abuse, Casual Violence, Child Abandonment, Crying, Doing the Wrong Thing for the Right Reasons, Evil, Gen, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Men Crying, Minor Character Death, Politics, Sadism, Tough choices, good parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-01-22 18:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21306407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikkie2571/pseuds/Nikkie2571
Summary: These are tales featured around important characters from the Main Story of SSS, quick and short, to give a window in the events and history surrounding them, but not long full backstories like in "History of the Wind".
Series: The Soul Snatchers' Saga: All stories, AUs, and non-canon funtimes [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1348525
Comments: 7
Kudos: 2





	1. Dammaga's Plight - Maradalel's Parents

Modara stared blankly at the empty cell, its lack of bars a yawning and lost presence that echoed its way through her soul.

“And just how did he absolutely  _ obliterate _ his cell, exactly?” Modara asked, not even turning around to look at the guards.

The assembled men didn’t reply. While normally they wouldn’t answer her, she was still a member of the city council. She still had that respect.

She turned around to face them. “I asked you a question!” She yelled, feeling her face stretch with her fury.

The men remained silent, though their skin was a vibrant orange now, almost sickly with how much fear was visible on them.

Modara pressed her lips together and stormed off. She was done here. These men were incompetent and she was about to be removed from her position.

Danda—el was waiting nearby, his skin nearly blank, just the barest hints of red and blue sprinkling over its surface.

“They know  _ nothing! _ ” Modara snapped as he fell into step with her. “They practically let him run away! Let our light, our Andale, be poisoned by that human  _ compost _ inside of him.”

“Modara…” Danda—el said calmly. “We knew this would happen. We raised the child as instructed and they ran from us. While I never expected them to run into the arms of a boy, I am not surprised. Though… the boy they chose did.”

Modara felt her skin shift, the different shades of red swirling and mixing violently. “That Ilikama brat has been rumour fodder for nearly two years! No one was able to pin him down with any particular child, female  _ or _ male, and then he chooses  _ Maradalel! _ Their friendship was practically doomed from the start, and now look where it has landed them! Landed us! They’ve doomed their families and they’ve managed to run off into the wilderness, together.”

“And there’s nothing we, or the city, can do about it,” Danda—el commented dryly. “Not without losing all their power and reputation as a city-state.”

Modara swore, letting it echo down the hallways to the ears of the guards and the remaining members of the city council.

“That child, they have truly fucked us over.”


	2. The Forest of Hope - Charl's Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She sang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a request fill for AntagonizedPenguin, who wanted to see what Charl's parents were like

Hope stared at the clearing, at the sparse and moist land of the forest where fewer trees sat. She stared at the home of her husband, the man she had met in the market so many years ago. She lived here now too, and one day they would have a child.

Hope smiled, happy with her life, with her choices.

********

The drake healer looked at them sadly, his face dusky and sad.

“It is possible that you could have another child, but be warned, I do not think it likely. Your womb feels twisted and dry and unlivable. I’m sorry.”

Hope blinked once, then twice, feeling her eyes wet. She-, she had wanted three children, not just this one. She looks down at the little girl in her arms, the mute beauty of her freckled skin beaming back at her. The child yawned and Hope released a sob as her husband’s arms wrapped around her.

“We can’t even k-k-keep this one.” She cried softly, feeling her ears start to dimly glow. “She can not make a sound, and her heart is weak!”

The healer’s face shifted to pity, his eyes bright, but sad. “The Lady Atreva is in town, she may be able to find someone who could keep her, if you truly wish to give her up.”

“William…” Hope whispered sadly. “We… we can’t keep her. We don’t have the money, or th-the magic ourselves to-, to help her.”

The arms around her tightened. “I know, dear, I know.”

Hope released a final quiet sob. “We have to give her up.”

William nodded and sniffled as he finally started to cry into her bright red hair.

********

The Guardian looked at them carefully, her cyan eyes blank of emotion.

“You wish to give up your child?” she asked.

Hope nodded, holding out the bundled child. “She can not speak, and her heart is weak. We do not have the resources to care for her ourselves, or to ask for her to be healed. We hope… we hope that in giving her to you, you can find someone who can.”

The Guardian’s eyes swirled, the colours appearing to swirl and shift as the aura around her brightened.

“What is the name of your child?” She asked, her voice echoing strongly.

Hope gulped as her hands shook, the upset glow whirling around them. “Her name is Mara.”

Atreva seemed to smile. “Your sacrifice is pure and real, only for the benefit of someone that is not yourself,” she said joyously as her tail snaked its way towards Hope. “In return, I will give you a gift.”

The tail wrapped around Hope’s torso, glowing a bright, bright, white.

“One day,” Atreva said soothingly, “you will have another child. Not tomorrow, not even in two years, but you will, and he will be The Son of Hope.”

That night, Hope cried in William’s arms as she stared at their empty crib, not to be filled for a long time.

********

William knew it would happen, was basically guaranteed by the Guardian, but it still took him by surprise when Hope approached him one day, about six years after Mara was born, declaring she was pregnant again.

“I-, are you sure?” He asked, more shocked than he was willing to admit.

Hope nodded in reply, her green eyes wet. “Absolutely. I can feel it.”

William felt a smile burst across his face. “Th-that’s amazing, honey!” He cried as he wrapped her in a hug. “We… We’re gonna finally be parents.”

William stilled, guilt filling him as he remembered, they already were parents. They already had a child, just… not one they had raised.

William pulled Hope’s head close and kissed the top. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Hope didn’t reply, she just held on tighter.

********

Charl was a beautiful child, an absolutely wonderful boy that William was so happy to call his son. The day he had been born, William had bought a silver necklace for Hope, engraved with the names of everyone in their family. All four of them.

She had cried that day, in joy, in pain, and in sorrow.

William was by her side for all of it.

They watched every day as Charl grew, as he sang nonsense songs to the animals, and listened to the wind blowing in the trees. Occasionally, Hope would join in, and the world seemed to be just that much brighter.

Hope appeared to be very reserved around Charl though, not even using magic. She claimed she wanted to protect him from the harm magic can cause, and William didn’t fault her for that. 

He too understood the desire to be better, to be stronger this time.

One day, while at the market with Charl, he bought the boy a cloth toy, a chicken made of old scrap and filled with flour and seeds.

Charl loved it, screaming in delight the moment it was revealed. He jumped up and down so much he fell and got dirt and dust absolutely covering his normally red hair.

William was a happy happy man and was proud of all his choices. Even the ones he wished he did not have to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The linking of Maradalel to Charl was an idea I came up with while writing this tidbit. It made a little bit of sense to me, and I just couldn't help it, so I ran wild with the idea.


	3. The beginning of the end of the world - The council of Illumia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had worked for a long long time to get here, and she was very displeased with having to change her plans.

“What have you done?!” She yelled at The Jailer.

He flinched, his fur ruffling as his neck twisted. “I didn’t do anything! It was The Magician! His runes didn’t hold them in place.”

She slapped him, hard. “And  _ who _ is supposed to recharge the runes? You are! You’re The Jailer, not him!”

The Jailer scowled. “Yes, Great Leader.”

She frowned at him. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again in the future, we lost a lot of valuable research. Two families of vampires, 3 colonies of wargs, our  _ only _ werewolf, and nearly all of the fae got out of the city today. The other species will wonder where they all came from.”

The Jailer’s eyes widened. “We’ll be discovered.”

She smiled dangerously. “And that’s why you should apologize to your boyfriend for losing his things.”

The Jailer scowled again. “He’s not my  _ boyfriend _ , so stop calling him that,” he snarled.

She patted him on the head, clearly patronizing him. “You keep telling yourself that.”

Slowly, she then left, making her way back to the main tower. She observed each empty cell she passed, displeasure rippling through her with each broken or bent bar.

“Advisor?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Remind me to get The Jailer another body, so I can kill this one.”

“Of course.”

“And convince The Magician to kiss him, it’s been centuries of pining and fake rivalry, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Of course, Great Leader,” The Advisor said, her smile evident in her voice. “You might stab them if I don’t, I take it?”

She nodded. “But of course I’d stab them, what else would I do?”

“And the incoming dignitary? Will you stab him too?”

She hummed. “I’m not sure yet. Probably not, as Arcaea will want him back, but my hand may have to be forced.” She smiled to herself. “I like it when my hand gets forced. It’s always so  _ fun _ .”

“For you, definitely not for the other person.”

They both laughed.

********

The dignitary greeted her at the gate, one of the many that had been closed for over a thousand years. They had never been opened, she had made sure of it. However, many messages had been passed through.

“Welcome to the city of Illumia, Dignitary Renzo,” she greeted him.

The other Ichneum bowed, his flowing white trimmed tunic moving with his slightest twitch. The brand on his left arm was curly and smaller than she was used to seeing.

“It is an honour, Ma’am,” Renzo responded with a polite smile. “I find it quite interesting that you share a name with the founder of your city. Quite fortunate for you, I imagine.”

She smiled, her expression purely a posturing mask. “Yes, quite.”

Renzo’s bodyguard, a muscled woman with striped grey fur, leaned over and whispered in his ear. His expression went shocked for a moment as if he was reminded of something.

“Oh, Yes! That’s right. Where will I be lodged during my visit?”

She smirked. “Why, in The Spire, of course. That’s where the whole council stays.”

It was a risk keeping him there, but one she had to take. He was a guest and needed to be treated with the respect he deserved, even if she didn’t personally want him there.

“Lead the way then,” Renzo requested, voice pleasant and smooth.

********

The alarms blared, waking them all up.

She knew, she  _ knew _ this would happen. She knew that cursed dignitary would go snooping, would go looking around, and just what did he do? Exactly that!

She ran down the steps of the Spire, deep into the jail, where the Jailer was already waiting. He was holding the Magician to his side. He looked wounded.

“What. Happened.” She tensely asked the Jailer.

He scowled. “That snobby Arcaean overloaded the power runes, killing the whole system. He’s released them all.”

She froze. “All of them?”

The Jailer half nodded, but then stopped. “Not the Guardian Killers, we have those kept elsewhere.”

She morphed her face back into a calm mask, trying to think of something.

“So… it seems our plans have been accelerated. Get the Tracker working on finding that loose dignitary and have the Magician change full time to working on the Crystal. I want that thing ready in under four years, not the original forty.”

The Jailer scowled again. “When he’s healed you mean?”

She turned and walked back up the stairs. “Sure, when he’s healed. You can be in charge of kissing him better once he starts working tomorrow," she said in a flowing passive voice.

She could hear the upset groaning of the Jailer as she walked away. It didn’t amuse her much though, her emotions in too much turmoil to do so. She needed to stab someone, and quickly. Perhaps the Seer would indulge her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dont know if i'll keep this posted, but i am very happy with it, so itll likely stay


	4. To lend a hand, to lend a soul, to lend a body, to lend it all - Elli Battleborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wanted to fight, to fight in his name, for his glory, and to do it she had to give up everything

Elli had spent her whole life in the church of Batlis, raised since childhood to respect the Guardians, but most especially him, he who could protect them from any threat, could grant them the ability to defeat any attack.

The hand of Batlis was an interesting man, not a warrior, but a man who was unmatched in skill, in ability, and could not be knocked down. No one could overcome his style.

He had been here for months, teaching, preparing, helping their little town defend itself from the nearby dragons that wished to claim their territory, the rich treasure just under the surface of it, and the gold that flowed in their river.

Elli had spent her whole life in fear of fire and wind, watching them tear down houses and fields and crops and towers, leaving families either dead or wishing they were. Elli wanted to fix that. Elli wanted to defeat the dragons. She wanted them gone, so they would never bother their town again, so no one else had to die. She wanted to fight.

“How can I help?” she asked Loris, the Hand of Batlis, in her high young voice.

He looked down at her, at her twelve years of accumulated height, and asked back “do you know any rituals?”

Elli shook her head. “No, sir.”

He stared at her, silent. His blue horns adding to his great stature and making him seem so much taller.

“You can do magic, yes?”

Elli nodded, lifting a hand to show off some magic sparks, the electricity jumping between her fingers.

Loris smiled. “You’ll do then.”

* * *

There were only so many mages in their town, too far away from, and too afraid of, the other races for most of them to go get magic. Only those lucky enough to have inherited it had the gift. Loris had collected them, the drakes in the town. All of them, young and old, as long as they had horns and knew what to do with the gift inside them, were here, standing around the arcane circle as Loris dropped objects and dust onto the dirt.

“I’ve been hoping it did not have to come to this,” he announced to them. “But your aggressors are too much, even for a Hand. I’ve gathered you here to power this ritual, this spell, that will summon a storm, a great blast of lightning, to take them down. It will take a lot of magic, and some of you may die if our magics are not enough, so hope to whatever Guardians you praise that it is.”

The dragons came quickly, spewing from the sky like a flock of ravens. Tribes of dragons so rarely grew to that size, but these dragons were nearly feral, lacking treasure, lacking land, driven by their instincts to take and loot and destroy until they were satisfied.

Elli despised those instincts and what they wrought, what they meant for people like them. And that was why she was here.

She kneeled down on the ground, next to a pile of sunflowers, pressed and preserved, surrounded by a circle of dust woven into the greater circle of runes and symbols and shapes that spelt out a command to the magic that filled their world. That asked it so nicely to protect them.

She pushed her magic into the ground and watched the dust flare bright, glowing with a white aura as the magic snaked through the dust like a pale blue flame.

The aura formed a ball around each pile of objects, each tribute to the spell, making them glow bright and disintegrate, eaten away at by magic, satiating its hunger, its requirements, the key to unlocking the power of the spell they’ve chosen.

Elli turned her head to the sky and watched, as she felt her magic empty, as her body grew hungry and cold, as her vision went hazy at the edges, watched as clouds above them swirled grey, deeper and deeper until a mass of blackness was above them.

The dragons circled, curious and concerned. She could sense it somehow, their minds picking up through the fog of instinct that something was wrong.

She smiled as she passed out because she saw a flash in the sky. Because it worked. Because she had helped.

When the dragons were no more than char in the sky, Elli let her mind go as black as their bodies.

* * *

She awoke in the church, in the bed of Loris, her father sitting at the foot of it.

“You’re a strong one, Elli,” Loris commented. “Lots of potential.”

Elli nodded slowly, still waking up slightly.

Loris turned to her father. “I’ve already asked your father, gave you the highest praises, and he agreed. So… I’m going to ask you something, and if you say yes… Well, we’ll just see when I ask.”

He smiled at her as she squinted at him in confusion. She wanted to smile at him, to mask it away, because she wasn’t sure he would like to see her so befuddled. But she was still so sleepy, filled with extra confusion.

“I want to take you with me when I leave, because I think, Elli, daughter of Marthis, that you would make a perfect addition to Batlis’ entourage of followers.”

Elli didn’t hesitate one moment before she agreed.

* * *

Loris was dead and the guard was falling. His teachings had only gone so far in the years they had been together and now they were failing her.

They were ravaging, looting and stealing and killing and raping.

And the Hand was dead.

Elli shouted loud as she drove her dragon-forged spear into her enemy, watching its enchanted heat slice through the woman’s armour and searing her flesh. She died instantly.

Slash, slice, spin, stab, cut. Down and down the enemies fell, but still, there were too many. Fires raged and buildings crumbled as burning oil and heavy canonshot flooded through the city.

She wanted it to stop, but this time… she didn’t know how. She didn’t think she could.

Turning a corner into another building she became instantly aware of her surroundings, that she was surrounded. Thirty men surrounded her, each armoured and wielding a sword. And she… was alone.

_ Stab _ . Into the closest man’s belly went her spear, his yelp of pain pushing the rest into action. Quickly she was subdued, even her special spear unable to overcome the weapons of so many well-trained soldiers.

“You’re the Hand’s apprentice,” the leader said, rather than killing her.

She smiled at him. “I am. Elli Battleborn, acolyte of the Great Guardian Batlis.”

He leered back and restrained her with magic, eating away at her own when she tried to retaliate. 

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he said, leaning over her with a look in his eye she could only fear.

When he took her, violated her in the worst way, she vowed that any child she would have from him would never know, so they would be unburdened by this man’s great darkness.

* * *

Batlis stared into her soul as she held young Loris in her arms.

“Would you give him up?” he asked. “To become my Hand, you would have to.”

She looked her son in the eyes, watching him stare uncomprehendingly back at her. She loved him, she knew that, but… would he be able to say the same one day? Would he love her, The Battleborn of Batlis, if she raised him the way she wanted to?

She turned to the Guardian of battle with a war in her head and her heart and said yes, because now that she knew what holding and caring for life meant, she felt like all she would do was destroy it. No matter how much she wished to do otherwise.

Because she was Elli Battleborn, Hand of Guardian Batlis, his chosen follower. She was not meant to be a mother. Even if she wanted to be.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my stories you can come join my discord! discord.gg/tBGA5fU


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